


Storms, truce, shocks, Hakyeon

by swshawnee



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1370593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swshawnee/pseuds/swshawnee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hakyeon is chaotic and storm-like, no matter what he feels. Wonshik does his best to keep up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Storms

**Author's Note:**

> Play this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BLLliRFzZKM  
> Read. Hopefully enjoy.

It's snowing outside, and Wonshik feels like he is thousands of beautiful miles away from home. He's not, though, really. He's lying on wooden floor with his arm stretched out towards the kitchen table, his head leaned on his arm, too lazy to find a better position even though it hurts. 

Morning is always beautiful in this house. He isn't exactly sure why it is, and though he never sees morning time any place other than here, he's sure there's nowhere else as beautiful. And while he lies there on the hard floor and contemplates this, tiny, glittering snowflakes are falling into his hand. 

"What are you doing?" asks Hakyeon from a chair by the kitchen table. "That looks painful." 

Wonshik turns his face towards him. The steady stream of snow that eventually ends up in Wonshik's hand starts from Hakyeon's outstretched index finger. "What?" Wonshik asks. 

Hakyeon gives him a glare that wheezes as it rattles the windows. "I'm asking why you're lying on the floor, of course. What else?"

He decides to look away from Hakyeon's irritated face, and keeps his gaze locked on the small drift of snow in his hand. "I'm catching your snow." 

"Yes, I can see that," Hakyeon says, and a gust of wind sends the flakes scurrying over the edge of the table. "But why are you catching my snow?" 

Wonshik just shakes his head. "Because otherwise it'll melt and the floor will get wet." 

"How do you know that? You don't let it touch the ground."

Wonshik smiles tiredly. "Because that's what snow does. It melts, and turns into water."

Hakyeon huffs in response. "You don't know. Maybe my snow is different. Besides, I know what snow does, you don't have to teach me." He shifts on his creaking chair, and through a quick glance Wonshik finds out that he's obviously offended. Wonshik nuzzles his face into his own arm to hide the smile that breaks out on his face. "It's not like it helps, you know," Hakyeon continues. "Now your hand gets wet instead."

And it's true, at least in a way. Wonshik's hand is angry red, frozen to the point where he can't even feel the sharp edges of Hakyeon's snowflakes as they bump against his skin. But even though it's true, it isn't really relevant. The snow is a lot more beautiful than it is painful. "Shouldn't your hand be cold?" he asks, as producing snow doesn't seem like the warmest work ever. 

"No. Well, maybe a little bit. But it feels nice. It's kind of obvious, really, isn't it?" Hakyeon throws Wonshik a glance. "It'd be so much worse if I just kept it all inside. It doesn't just appear out of nowhere, you know. It has to come from somewhere."

"You talk a lot," Wonshik says. "It's okay to give just one or two word replies sometimes, you know." 

Hakyeon huffs again and Wonshik swears he can feel a cold wind brush right past him. It feels like Christmas morning and the weight in your lungs after running up the stairs. "You know, I really don't like you." 

Wonshik laughs, a dark and almost motor-like sound. "Is that so?" 

"That is so," Hakyeon confirms, and the sheer outrage he feels makes Wonshik smile even wider. "You think I talk too much, when in fact if I didn't talk, we'd all be screwed. Especially you." 

Debating with himself whether to say what's on his mind or not, Wonshik wets his dry lips. The anticipation and fear mold together and he doesn't know what he feels. "I said 'a lot'," he clarifies, "not too much." 

Snow still pours from Hakyeon's hand to Wonshik's. The snow that falls outside the window behind Wonshik's back is light and careful, and completely silent. "There's no difference between 'a lot' and 'too much'," Hakyeon says, stubborn and moping. "Otherwise you wouldn't have pointed it out." 

"Alright," Wonshik says. "So if I would have said you were 'very beautiful' or 'very smart', would it still be something negative?" 

Hakyeon giggles, the sound appearing foreign to Wonshik's ears in the middle of all that resistant sulkiness. "No. You can never be too beautiful." 

Wonshik looks at him again then, eyes lingering over bumpy cheeks, wide lips and tired eyes. He decides that Hakyeon doesn't know how wrong he is. "That depends on who you ask." 

"What do you mean, who I ask?" Hakyeon questions. Part of Wonshik is sure that he's only arguing for the sake of not agreeing with him, and he's also sure that Hakyeon doesn't see how obvious it is. "Do you think anyone would say no to more beauty if they were offered it? More and more and more until all the flaws are gone from their face?" 

He keeps it inside, but Wonshik still laughs. Flaws. The word seems almost funny when talking to Hakyeon. "Maybe not. But it makes it difficult for other people."

"For other people?" Hakyeon says thoughtfully, voice immediately turning dreamy, the way it always does when he doesn't understand and doesn't have the energy to pretend he does.

"Yes, it makes it hard for us mere bystanders."

"What do you mean 'us', you're handsome, too," Hakyeon grumbles. Wonshik wants to laugh again, because there's a big difference between 'handsome' and 'so gorgeous I want to lie down and cry'. But again, he keeps a straight face and doesn't let Hakyeon see what he's thinking. "And what do you mean, it's gets hard because of jealousy?" 

The snow fills up almost his entire hand, but Wonshik watches the drift grow without worries. "No, I mean that it's hard to constantly be so close to someone so beautiful." 

"Ow," Hakyeon says and hides it in a small gasp, but Wonshik always hears what Hakyeon has to say, whether he wants to or not. So when he notices the trickle of snowflakes has stopped, he sits up instantly and grabs onto the table to pull himself up. He crumples the snow into a ball in his hand.

"What's wrong?" 

A last, oversized snowflake that looks more like a broken clump of ice rolls over the table, falls off the edge and hits the floor with a crash. Wonshik ignores it. The ball in his hand falls to the floor, too, with a thud. On the tip of Hakyeon's index finger, a small drop of blood is forming, and Hakyeon himself is staring at it like a child who let go of his toy in the middle of the air, but would never have guessed that it would actually break when it hit the ground. "It hurts," he mumbles. 

The drop continues to grow until it becomes too big, and slowly starts leaking down Hakyeon's finger. Wonshik pulls his sleeve over his hand without thinking, and carefully wipes the blood away with his own shirt. Then he takes Hakyeon's hand, and between his one warm hand and one ice cold hand it feels like the only thing he wants to hold on to ever again. He lifts it to his lips, and kisses it softly. When he lowers it again, Hakyeon is looking at him seriously, like he's expecting Wonshik to suddenly smack him across the face or tell him that he tastes awful. "Better?" Wonshik asks. The bleeding stops, and there's no more snow. 

"Stop," Hakyeon says. 

"Stop?" 

"You have to stop being nice to me." 

Wonshik places Hakyeon's hand on the table carefully, and then he walks to the opposite end and sinks down on one of the wooden chairs there. "I'm sorry, what?" 

"I mean it," Hakyeon says, and he seems more confident now that Wonshik isn't standing right in front of him. "Stop it all. No more laughing at my jokes, no more covering for me when I'm being stupid, no more high fives, hugs, handholding, no more." 

Wonshik wants to laugh again but knows it probably isn't a very good time. "Why, if I may ask?" 

Hakyeon's nose twitches. "Just do as I say." 

"That's gonna be hard," Wonshik replies, and now he lets out a little laugh with it. "We're on the same team, you know." 

Hakyeon waves his words away with a flick of his wrist. The impact whistles through the walls. "You can do it. I have faith in you." 

"What's going on? What brought this on, suddenly?" Wonshik asks, but Hakyeon's eyes are suddenly avoiding every single part of him, showing more interest in the melting snowball on the floor. "Hakyeon, come on," he begs, "I barely ever have to ask you to speak. You always tell me what's going on. Let's not make this an exception."

Hakyeon looks him in the eyes then, apparently so eager to tell him but also so eager not to, that all it takes is Wonshik's second question until he can't hold it inside anymore. "Because if you don't stop, I'm going to fall in love with you." 

Wonshik blinks. "You, what?" 

"If you don't stop being so nice to me, I'm going to fall in love with you," Hakyeon repeats, without batting an eyelash. 

He feels so stunned he can barely speak. He just stares back at the man in front of him with his mouth open, shaking his head, waiting for the words to fall onto his tongue and come out, but it seems there's nothing there. When it does happen, it's not at all what he was hoping for. "What's wrong with you?" he asks, and maybe the question is meant more for himself than for Hakyeon. 

"That's my point," Hakyeon says. "So stop it now. There's nothing I can do about it. And when I do fall for you, things are going to get very, very awkward. And we can't have that." 

"No, we can't," Wonshik mumbles, staring down into the table. 

"So are we agreed?" Hakyeon questions. "You will stop treating me like I'm God's gift, and there will be no falling for each other. Yes?"

Despite the situation, Wonshik finds joy in the fact that at least Hakyeon thinks he treats him well. Because that's all he's ever wanted to do. And even though he wants to make Hakyeon happy, he can't agree to his request. He shakes his head. "No."

"What do you mean, no?" Hakyeon says, eyes immediately turning sad and pleading. "You heard what I said. It'd be a disaster." 

"You're important to me," Wonshik says. It's the biggest understatement that has ever passed his lips. "I can't treat you..." 'As a friend', his brain fills in helpfully, and Wonshik resists the temptation to smack himself. "I can't treat you like you aren't," he finishes weakly. 

Hakyeon sighs. "Well, then. Don't say I didn’t warn you. When I fall in love with you and you're all with the 'ew' and 'what the hell is wrong with you', don't blame me. It's on you now." 

Wonshik's throat feels unbearably dry. The temptation to run out into the snow is overpowering, and he's sure everything would feel easier out there. Because hearing Hakyeon say the words makes him want to wrap them both up in a blanket and kiss until their lips are chapped – easy to come by in the winter, especially with Hakyeon's snow – but Hakyeon apparently does not have feelings for him. Not yet. So he pulls his hands over his face, through his hair, and says simply: "we'll see what happens." 

And never before has it felt so hopeful. Hakyeon looks dejected, and there are a million things he wants to tell him, but he can't, because it would ruin everything. If Hakyeon found out how Wonshik worships the ground he walks on, then who knows what would happen. One thing is clear in Wonshik's mind: anything that might distract Hakyeon's prophecy from fulfilling itself will have to wait. 

So when Hakyeon gets up from his chair and walks out of the room without another word, obviously upset with Wonshik for jeopardizing their friendship or not taking him seriously, Wonshik turns around on his chair and stares out the window, into the still falling snow. He wants to run out there, feel the thick flakes on his face, feel his own steps being pulled back by the twinkling mass of white on the ground, maybe even catch some of the flakes on his tongue (only if no one else is watching of course; except for maybe Hakyeon). But he's still sure that Hakyeon's snow is better. So he leans over the table, but the snow has already melted into a puddle on the floor. 

He might need Hakyeon to make some more.


	2. Truce

Wonshik walks in the door and comes to a halt immediately. Outside was warm and sunny and welcoming, and he needs to take but two steps inside the hallway before he realizes how dark and gloomy the room feels. He looks up, spots Hakyeon on the couch on the other side of the room, and then he understands why. 

“Hey,” he says, easing his bag off his shoulders before leaning down to take off his shoes. There’s no reply, which probably means Hakyeon is angry with him again. And as much as that shouldn’t be a good thing, something flutters in the pit of Wonshik’s stomach. 

Hakyeon’s snow is long gone, and so is the snow Wonshik watched fall to the ground, the snow he wanted to run through and feel as it came down. Months have passed. Nothing has changed. Wonshik has made sure to stay the exact same person he has always been, and God only knows it has been hard at times. The hardest part was the time that passed while Hakyeon’s wound had yet to heal (which took surprisingly long) and he refused to look Wonshik in the eye or let him come closer than two meters away.

“How did it go?” Hakyeon asks then, just as Wonshik puts his boots away on the shoe rack, and he assumes the older man is referring to his tiring schedule for the day. He shrugs.

“Fine. Nothing special.” He leaves his bag by the door, walks over to the couch and sinks down beside Hakyeon, though at a safe distance. He leans his elbows on his knees, trying to figure out how to approach Hakyeon’s obvious displeasure with him, but then he turns his head and there are dark clouds rolling over the palm of Hakyeon’s hand. 

He stares at them, wide eyed, surprised for a reason he doesn’t really know. “What?” Hakyeon says, tone challenging. 

“Nothing,” Wonshik says, shaking his head. “What are those?” 

Hakyeon glares at him. “They are clouds.”

“So I see. But why are they clouds?” Hakyeon looks away again, fixing his gaze at the clouds on his palm, and the corners of his mouth are drooping, something that makes Wonshik feel like he’s about to start crying. But he doesn’t speak, and that above all throws Wonshik off. “You’re quiet today,” he says. Hakyeon doesn’t look at him, but gives a short shake of his head and nods towards his hand. “What?” Wonshik asks. 

“I think this speaks volumes, doesn’t it?” Hakyeon says, holding up his hand. 

“So we’re doing the guessing thing?” Wonshik asks, and when Hakyeon doesn’t reply, he takes the hint. “We’re doing the guessing thing. Let’s see… You’re… angry?” 

Hakyeon attempts to kill him with his eyes again. “Don’t be stupid. That would be a thunder storm. These clouds don’t have any bolts of lightning in them.” He shakes his hand as if the lack of sound proves his point, and the clouds tumble around messily. 

“Right,” Wonshik says, “of course. You’re sad?” 

Sighing, Hakyeon shrugs. “No, not really. Not first and foremost, at least.” 

“Then…” Wonshik says, trying to think of negative feelings. He stares into the dark clouds, looks for clues, but ends up feeling even more confused than before. “Heartbroken?” 

“What is your problem?” Hakyeon says then, rearranging his position, but still not looking at Wonshik. “What’s the difference between heartbroken and sad?” 

In Wonshik’s mind they are worlds apart, but he plays along. “Then what are you?” 

Hakyeon’s nostrils flare, but as expected, he isn’t silent for long. “I am disappointed.”

Wonshik raises an eyebrow at him. “In who?” 

“In you.”

He straightens his back. His heart beats faster, because there’s a possibility he might know what’s coming. “What did I do?” Hakyeon’s lips are pursed, shut tightly, and the sheer pain inside him is so tangible that Wonshik can almost physically feel it. He doesn’t want to imagine what it’s like touching those clouds of his. In the end, Wonshik’s heart starts beating painfully hard, and he can’t stand it, so he reaches out, puts a hand on Hakyeon’s wrist and holds it tightly. “Hey, look at me. Why are you disappointed in me?” 

Hakyeon looks at him, but only for a second. His eyes look glassy and strained and for a second Wonshik doesn’t want him to reply. “You didn’t listen to my warning,” he says, regardless of the other man’s thoughts. “Now everything’s ruined.” 

Wonshik lets go of him, even though knows what message it sends. Despite having waited for this day for months, for years even, he doesn’t think he’s ready for this conversation. His voice is quivering when he speaks again: “Why do you always make these depressing things?” He gestures towards Hakyeon’s clouds, painfully aware of the awkwardness in his tone. “Why can’t you make something nice instead, like sunshine?” 

Hakyeon stares at Wonshik’s hand, then back at his clouds. “I thought you liked the snow.” 

“I did,” Wonshik agrees. “Until it hurt you.” 

Hakyeon snaps his head towards him, and Wonshik is trapped between the instinct to laugh out loud and the sound of grumbling in Hakyeon’s clouds; the sound scares him a little bit, to be honest, because he’s sure Hakyeon’s thunder is not to be toyed with. “Well, you know me,” the older of the two hisses, and his tone is tense and high and makes him sound terribly old. “This is just what I do. You know this by now.” 

Wonshik nods. “True, I do.” 

“So stop asking pointless questions!” Hakyeon snarls. “Why are you even here?” 

And Wonshik knows he can put all of this to an end; the countless times he’s glanced at Hakyeon and wondered what if, and the endless days he’s looked in the mirror and asked why. Most of all, he knows he can end the suffering the other man is going through, and must have gone through for the past months – God, how he must have tortured himself with this thought, that he might be falling in love with one of his best friends who doesn’t love him back, and he can’t do anything about it. It can all come to an end right here, right now, and Wonshik wants it to, but for some reason or other he is scared. He’s scared of not pretending he doesn’t know, of facing it all out in the open, so he plays dumb for a few moments longer. “I live here.” 

Hakyeon’s eyes practically burn into him. “What… are you doing… here… beside me on this very couch, Wonshik? I swear, sometimes you’re the thickest man on the planet—“ 

Tears are forming in Hakyeon’s eyes, and the clouds in his hand seem to be levitating higher now, as though they’re slowly taking off from (or maybe completely in) Hakyeon’s control, so Wonshik reaches out and takes the other’s unoccupied hand in his. “Wait,” he says, “before you say things you’ll regret.” 

“You’d better have something damn wise to say right now, Wonshik,” Hakyeon says, his eyes brimming with tears. “How can you do this to me? I told you so clearly that I was going to fall in love with you, but you didn’t care, and how could you not care? Haven’t you ever been in love? Don’t you realize how painful it is?” 

Wonshik squeezes his hand when Hakyeon tries to pull it away. “I’m well aware. I know how it hurts.” 

“Then that makes you even more of a bastard,” Hakyeon continues. “You know how it hurts, and you’re still willing to put me through it.” 

“Listen,” Wonshik says, and holds even tighter when Hakyeon’s attempts to escape becomes more urgent. “Are you in love with me?” 

Hakyeon stares at him for a few seconds. Then, with unexpected force, he pulls his hand out of Wonshik’s grip and smacks him over the top of his head. Wonshik pulls back and cowers with his hands over his face; the slap wasn’t a very harsh one, but the shock stings. “Of course I am in love with you! What do you think?!” Hakyeon yells at him. “And now it’s going to hurt every single time I look at you for the next few years of my life, and I gave you the chance to help me, but you just let it pass!” 

Wonshik looks out from under his hands and sees the clouds leave Hakyeon’s hand and slowly, slowly make their way towards the ceiling. He winces, because he’s not sure but it looks like they’re getting bigger, too, and maybe darker. Or maybe he’s just scared. “Hakyeon, please,” he says, inching away from the growing clouds. “I didn’t do anything, because I’m in love with you, too.” 

Everything stops. Wonshik feels like he’s about to fall off the couch, as if he is on a rollercoaster that suddenly and without warning came to a stop. Like a storm raided the room and then ceased to exist in a second. 

The whole room feels different, and Wonshik notices that the clouds have stopped mid-air. They aren’t growing anymore, and neither do they look so dark. Beneath them, Hakyeon sits, slightly open mouthed, staring at him with eyes that soon turn suspicious. “You’re just saying that,” he breathes. “You’re just saying it so that I won’t be so sad, or angry with you.” 

Wonshik gives an unhappy laugh. “You really have high thoughts of me,” he says, tilted smile hurting his cheeks. “Or is it yourself?” he adds, and Hakyeon’s eyes change; they stare over Wonshik’s shoulder, aimlessly, as if he isn’t really there, but somewhere far away, and then, after an insecure second, he seems to fall back into himself. 

“You… you have feelings for me?”

Wonshik nods in time with his racing heart. “Yes.” 

Hakyeon looks lost. “Since when?” 

“Years.” 

“But…” the older says, and the clouds starts falling, so slowly that at first Wonshik can’t register it. “You never said anything.” 

“No,” Wonshik shrugs.

“Not even when I told you I was going to fall in love with you.” 

“That’s right,” Wonshik agrees. Though Hakyeon is barely a meter away, he feels so distant that Wonshik has a hard time taking it all in. 

Hakyeon observes him, and at least that defeated expression with complimentary tears is gone now. Wonshik breathes a little easier, but his heart is about to knock him out. “I made you suffer, didn’t I?” Hakyeon asks, a dreadful realization shining out of his eyes. “You must have suffered so much because of me.” 

“Don’t,” Wonshik says, gathering up melting pieces of courage to reach out and take Hakyeon’s hand again, for the first time, for real. 

“But you did.” 

“I never loved you for my own sake,” Wonshik says, and somehow it’s getting harder to look Hakyeon in the eye. The clouds have shrunk to their original size and come back down to their place just above Hakyeon’s hand. The man opens his hand and lets them land as if he doesn’t need to look to know that they are there. 

“You’re stupid,” Hakyeon says, and his nails scrape at the skin of Wonshik’s palm. “I want to kiss you.” 

Wonshik looks at him and he’s sure this is the end for him, because his heart should not be physically capable of beating at this speed, and Hakyeon’s words sound so honest, as they always do (except for when he’s lying, then they just sound like someone else’s voice-over) , so honest that it physically pains him. Even so, he inches closer to Hakyeon on the couch, the other man eyeing him expectantly and rather nervously. He can’t help but lick his lips.

He positions himself so that his knee touches Hakyeon’s, and even that is enough to make him try to swallow and clear his throat at the same time. He tries to look the other man in the eye, falters, and his gaze falls upon the clouds, still sitting in Hakyeon’s outstretched hand. Without thinking twice, he purses his lips and blows at them, and Hakyeon jerks his hand away. 

“Hey, now!” he protests, “I made this! These are my clouds.” Said clouds fly towards the end of the couch and are just about to fall over the backrest when Hakyeon catches them. 

“Put them away,” Wonshik says, tongue numb. “I don’t want them to accidentally get in our faces, or something. I’ve heard it can bring you out of the mood.” He’s not even truly aware of his own words anymore, because his eyes find Hakyeon’s lips and everything that felt distant before feels frighteningly real, suddenly. 

Those lips he can’t look away from thin into a thoughtful expression as Hakyeon looks at the clouds in his hand. Then he raises his hand to his lips, aims it towards the ceiling, and blows until the clouds are sent off sailing through the air. They bounce as they hit the ceiling, in a funny way that makes them both laugh for a second. “Do you even need them anymore?” Wonshik asks. 

Hakyeon turns back to him, but he doesn’t reply. And, Wonshik has realized, when Hakyeon doesn’t speak, it’s because of one of two reasons. 1: He’s upset, angry or disappointed in you, in which case it’s best to keep talking to him, because he won’t be able to stay silent for long. 2: It’s simply time to shut up. And, given his satisfied, almost smug expression, this time it probably isn’t the first one. So, he cups Hakyeon’s sharp jaw in his hand, leans in and kisses him full on the lips. 

He tries to not put all the years of waiting he’s done into the kiss, because he is still afraid of overwhelming Hakyeon, but he closes his eyes and his mind still reels when he feels Hakyeon’s heart beat against his; images of Hakyeon saying goodnight, images of Hakyeon waking him up without saying good morning, Hakyeon walking by his side, Hakyeon stealing his food, pushing him into the spotlight, saying too much, laughing louder than anyone else, bowing in apology (but never to Wonshik), storms, truce, shocks, Hakyeon, Hakyeon, Hakyeon. He sees it all and he feels it, feels it too much because Hakyeon is kissing back with those lips that Wonshik has kissed thousands of times in all of those odd moments of the day when he forgets that he is awake, that he is among people, that Hakyeon isn’t his—

Except, now, maybe he is. 

He breaks the kiss, because he thinks he’s about to explode. He leans his forehead against Hakyeon’s, and vaguely registers that he is smiling. And when he looks up, the clouds are nowhere to be seen. 

“Don’t worry,” Hakyeon says, biting a little at his chapped lips. “It’s not going to rain.”


	3. Shocks

Wonshik lies on his bed (he wants to say their, because it’s always occupied by two bodies nowadays) while the sun sets outside the window. The sunset is beautiful today, pink and yellow and orange mixing and spilling out all over the sky, but Wonshik is mostly uninterested. All he wants at this moment is for Hakyeon to stop whatever it is he’s doing in the next room and come to bed. 

Love has always been too much for Wonshik to handle, and while he was watching Hakyeon from afar, it wasn’t as clear. When he didn’t have Hakyeon, couldn’t walk up to him and steal a kiss when no one else was around, the pain of unrequited love was excruciating, sure, but at least he was unaware of all the feelings that still haven’t been given a name. 

Sometimes, when they lie in bed together, kissing for hours while the sky gradually gets darker outside, something inside Wonshik grows and grows until it feels like he’s about to choke, and no matter what he does, no matter where he puts his hands, it is never enough. And even as Hakyeon pulls back, looks him straight in the eyes and treads his fingers through Wonshik’s hair, Wonshik can feel himself trembling, because he doesn’t know what to do. 

And sometimes, after Hakyeon has gone to sleep, Wonshik stays awake, his arm around the other man’s waist, hearing, feeling and adoring the soft breathing as Hakyeon disappears into dreamland. He tries to keep his grip on Hakyeon’s hip from becoming too tight, tries to keep his nails from piercing the delicate skin, but the feelings coursing through him are too intense, and sometimes he can’t do anything other than bury his face in Hakyeon’s neck and cry silently, not wanting to wake him. He lies there, wide awake, wiping his eyes on the pillowcase every now and again, and he wonders when these feelings will stop. When the feeling of Hakyeon’s lips against his will register in his brain, when the suffocating feeling of all this love that cannot be contained inside him will subside, and he can go back to his regular life, where his mind isn’t occupied by the other man for quite so many hours of the day. 

But it never happens, and Wonshik is slowly losing the ability to breathe.

“What are you doing?” he calls, because the waiting is becoming too much. 

Not a sound apart from Hakyeon’s voice is heard. “Nothing.” 

Wonshik huffs. “So come to bed.” 

“No,” Hakyeon calls back. “I’m doing something.” 

Wonshik rolls over on his back, not even bothering to look confused. “You just said you were doing nothing.”

“It depends on your point of view,” Hakyeon replies. “Some people might say I’m wasting time, but it’s very important to me.” 

Sighing, Wonshik runs his hands through his hair. “Well, whatever it is, can’t it wait?” He stares out the window, into the beautiful, gradually darkening sky, and his entire body aches. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I told you, it’s important,” Hakyeon says, irritation obvious in his voice. “Go to sleep if you’re so tired, what do you need me there for?” 

Wonshik knows from the way Hakyeon speaks that he’s being too clingy, but he feels like it would be difficult to survive if he wasn’t. “I want you here,” he replies softly. “It always feels better if you’re here.” Hakyeon merely snorts, and Wonshik thinks he probably thought it wouldn’t be audible from the next room. “Why can’t you come to bed?” 

“I don’t want to sleep yet. It’s still early.” 

Wonshik pushes his face into the pillow. “Lying down doesn’t equal sleeping.” 

“I know that,” comes Hakyeon annoyed voice. “But it equals the beginning of the long process of going to sleep, and it’s still early, and I don’t think I’m ready for that. I’m not tired.” 

Hakyeon is definitely being difficult just for the sake of being difficult, and Wonshik wonders for a moment if maybe there are clouds being formed in the other room. The thought fills him with curiosity, and suddenly he doesn’t feel so sleepy anymore either. “Hakyeon, please,” he calls, “come here.” 

“No.” Obstinate and difficult and completely loveable. 

“Why not?” 

Hakyeon almost screams out his frustration. “Why? Because you’re there! Leave me alone!” 

Wonshik laughs, because if this is a day like any other, it will end with Hakyeon crawling down next to him and kissing him just to make him shut up. Strange, how the roles have changed as the months have flown by and made a cold spring into a hot summer, as the snow has disappeared and taken Wonshik’s insecurities with it. “Alright,” he replies, “but only if you tell me what you’re really doing.” 

“For God’s sake…” Hakyeon groans. “I’m watching the sunset, okay? Can you be quiet now?” 

He tries to, for at least a whole second, but then Wonshik decides that sunsets are always more beautiful if you share them with somebody, so he jumps off the bed and makes his way towards the open door to living room. He leans in, sees Hakyeon standing with his back towards him over by the window, and says: “I’ll watch it with you, then.” 

“No, no, no!” Hakyeon says, turning around to face him, and Wonshik stops. “Don’t come here. Go back to bed.”

Wonshik laughs again, though a lot more insecure this time. “Why?” 

“I’m serious, Wonshik,” Hakyeon says, and his voice is full of warnings, full of fear, but most of all full of danger. “Go away. Leave.” 

Starting to feel worried, Wonshik walks towards the other man again. “But I—“ he tires, but Hakyeon shakes his head. 

“No, don’t!” he practically yells, and as Wonshik reaches him he inches towards the window. “Don’t touch me!” 

His eyes are showing fear and some kind of war, and Wonshik stops in his steps again, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with fear. “You’re serious?” 

Hakyeon rolls his eyes at him. “Gee, Wonshik, congratulations! What gave it away?”

Wonshik swallows. “What’s wrong?” He reaches out a hand towards Hakyeon, just to calm him down, but Hakyeon jerks his arm away. 

“Don’t touch me!” he yells again. 

“Hakyeon…” Wonshik mumbles. He closes the distance between them but lets his arms hang by his sides as he notices Hakyeon’s terrified gaze. “What is it?” 

“Go away,” Hakyeon breathes. “I don’t want to see your face.” 

Wonshik doesn’t laugh anymore, because everything he has loved about Hakyeon’s quirks has disappeared in less than thirty seconds. He remains where he’s standing, feeling the ground unraveling beneath his feet; the man he loves is afraid of him, and how can that be? What has Wonshik ever done to make Hakyeon afraid of him? His tongue feels numb as he tries to sort out what to ask to make sense of it all. He settles for “Why?”

“Do as I say,” Hakyeon hisses in reply. “Just leave.” 

“Or what?” Wonshik pries as he feels the arrival of a new kind of hurt. “The ceiling will get cloudy again?” 

The look Hakyeon gives him is enough to make it feel like tears aren’t far off. And maybe they aren’t, Wonshik thinks, because he currently can’t feel a single trickle of happiness inside him, and he doesn’t know if he’s ever been this scared. “You know I’m like this,” Hakyeon says, and his voice is calm but quivering with rage. “You know this is what I do, how I live, how I love. If you can’t deal with that, then walk away.” For the first time, Wonshik can hear the distant sound of Hakyeon’s thunder. 

It awakens something inside of Wonshik, and though it should probably be more fear, it’s anger. Anger about the fact that Wonshik has never loved anyone else in his life, anger because of this groundless fear that Hakyeon seems to be having towards him, and anger because Wonshik has no idea how to make this okay again. “Hakyeon, please,” he says, reaching out to take the other man’s hand, “what is this—“ 

“Don’t!” Hakyeon shrieks, jerking his arm away again and leaning so far back that the window sill presses painfully into his back. Wonshik freezes. “You know who I am,” Hakyeon pants. “If you touch me, it’s going to hurt. Do you understand me?” 

Wonshik just shrugs, because he doesn’t. He doesn’t understand. “I don’t care,” he says. “It’s worth it.” 

“It’s on you now,” Hakyeon breathes. “I warned you. It’s going to hurt. It’s your choice, it’s on you now.” In his horrified, mumbling voice it sounds like chanting, like a spell, like something he says to keep himself calm rather than Wonshik. 

“Always on me, huh?” Wonshik says. There are tears in Hakyeon’s eyes and that is enough to make fresh tears well up in his own. He gives him a last look; the way he’s straining himself to get away from Wonshik, the way his eyes are filled with tears out of fear from what Wonshik is going to do. And he shakes his head, looks down at the arms that are pressed against the wall, and he breaks. “You’re right. It is my choice.” And then he takes both of Hakyeon’s hands in his. 

For a moment, everything is silent and all he sees is Hakyeon’s eyes close as tears pour through closed eyelids, and then it hits, the electricity, bolts of lightning shooting through Hakyeon’s hands into his own, circulating his body and leaving long, burning marks that seem to go all the way down into his soul, and his arms hurt, they ache and he can feel his very bones hurt until he forgets about everything else. 

He doesn’t know if he screams. The pain is all he knows yet there’s space enough in his mind to register the feeling of thunder coursing through Hakyeon’s veins, the way it pulsates and burns in the other man’s heart at all times, like a growing cloud in the very back of his mind. He’s only half aware of Hakyeon’s fingers squeezing tighter around his hands to hold him in place, and the volume of the hurt is turned up, his head is filled with shock after shock after shock and then he falls to his knees, so close to the edge of unconsciousness that the world behind his closed eyelids seems to darken. 

Hakyeon lets go. He’s on his knees too, and Wonshik leans on him, his head on Hakyeon’s shoulder. Wonshik can’t feel his own breaths anymore, though he tries to fill his lungs up with air again, and he wonders if maybe he’s going to die like this, by Hakyeon’s hands, in Hakyeon’s hands. But through the screaming, pulsating feeling his wrists, the world starts to come back. He feels Hakyeon straining to keep both of their weights up, he feels the tears that are pouring from his eyes, wetting the material of Hakyeon’s shirt, and he feels the air flow through his hot, scorched throat. 

And, of course, he hears the sound of Hakyeon’s hysterical tears. “I’m sorry,” he sobs. “You’re going to leave me. I just know it.” Wonshik does his best to open his eyes, but even the dimmed light from the sunset outside feels too bright. “I can’t stop it,” Hakyeon pants. “I keep hurting you, and I can’t stop. You’re going to abandon me, and everything is going to hurt from now on. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Wonshik tries to hold his own weight up, and he’s not sure if he succeeds or if he’s still leaning on Hakyeon’s warm, trembling body. “I told you not to touch me,” Hakyeon cries. “I told you you’d get hurt, I’m bad for you, I should have told you from the start, I’m so sorry.” 

“Hakyeon, be quiet,” Wonshik pants, his head firmly placed on Hakyeon’s shoulder and back. His breathing is starting to return to normal, but Hakyeon is crying so violently that he sounds like he’s about to choke. “Don’t cry,” he pleads. “Just don’t cry.”

But it’s a lost cause, and he knows that. Hakyeon is so far gone he doesn’t seem to take in what Wonshik is saying, if he’s at all aware that Wonshik is even there. “I’m sorry,” he chants, over and over, and Wonshik’s heart breaks in a way that is much more painful than any bolt of lightning. 

He sits up, even though he doesn’t feel like he’s strong enough to hold his own head up. “Hakyeon, look at me,” he says, cupping Hakyeon’s cheeks with his aching hands. Hakyeon’s lips are pursed tightly and his entire body is convulsing, but Wonshik holds him still. “Hakyeon… open your eyes. Please.” 

And Hakyeon eventually does what he’s told, sniffling and shaking, with tears still running down his cheeks in angry streams. His eyes are already red and tired, and Wonshik wonders if maybe he had lost consciousness for a bit, but it isn’t important. “Why did you do that?”

Hakyeon’s eyes close again, in shame this time, and he leans his head in Wonshik’s hand. “You’re… you’re going to leave me eventually,” he says, stopping for stutters and hiccups. “I just know it. And I want you to stay, but I wish you’d do it now, leave now, because it will only get harder the longer you wait.” And Wonshik realizes it then: no matter what Hakyeon feels, it is always intense, it is always overpowering and uncontrollable. Just like Wonshik, he can’t contain it all inside. “If it’s not thunder, it’s clouds or rain or snow and you will always have to deal with me, because I can’t stop,” Hakyeon continues, the tears collecting in Wonshik’s palm. “I’m bad for you, and you’re going to realize that.” 

Wonshik lets him talk, lets it all fall out of Hakyeon’s mouth as if he isn’t truly aware of what he’s saying. But when Hakyeon repeats “I will hurt you” for the fourth time, he decides he’s heard enough. Finally he feels strong enough to sit up on his own, so he lets his hands fall to the floor (after making sure they won’t collide with Hakyeon’s, that is) and Hakyeon falls back, his back hitting the wall beneath the window. “You and your premonitions,” Wonshik says, trying on a smile. 

Hakyeon stares at him through unstable eyes. “I was right last time,” he says, voice raspy and exhausted. 

“Yes, but the last one was about yourself,” Wonshik says. “This one is about me. And apparently I haven’t made it clear enough for you.” He holds his aching wrists and Hakyeon eyes him in worry, and though Wonshik wants him to calm down, there’s no point in denying he got really hurt this time. “I don’t doubt that you’d have left yourself ages ago, given the chance,” he says. “But I’m not you. I’m not going to leave. Not now, not later.” 

Hakyeon swipes his hand over his face in a futile attempt to wipe his tears away. “But I keep—“ 

“No, Hakyeon,” Wonshik interrupts. “You hurt me because you’re so scared of hurting me that you can’t keep it inside.” 

Hakyeon gives an unhappy laugh. “Can’t you hear how pathetic that sounds? It doesn’t matter why it happens, I hurt you, and that’s wrong.” 

Wonshik considers it. “Well, I can’t say I enjoy it much,” he says with a laugh. “But I know you, Hakyeon. This is only happening because you’re trying to push me away.” Hakyeon remains pressed against the wall, and Wonshik has to laugh again, at the situation, at everything. “Hell, I couldn’t leave you even if I wanted to,” he says. “And I don’t want to. I don’t want to live without you. Do you hear me?” Hakyeon looks are him carefully before nodding reluctantly. “So don’t push me away. I’m not leaving.” 

Hakyeon launches at him then, and he’s just about to wrap his arms around Wonshik when he stops himself, standing on his knees and looking down at his hands in fear. “Don’t leave me,” he says then, looking up at Wonshik. “Please. Please, don’t leave.” 

Wonshik smiles, reaches out and, despite Hakyeon’s desperate attempts to pull them away, takes the other man’s hands in his.

Nothing happens. Outside the first few raindrops fall from the darkening sky.


	4. Hakyeon

Wonshik’s hand is locked tightly with Hakyeon’s. Though, maybe that’s a modification of the truth, because Hakyeon’s fingers are wrapped so tightly around Wonshik’s that his nails are pressing into his skin a little bit, but Wonshik works hard and hangs on for dear life as they run together. 

They’re in a place Wonshik has never seen before; somewhere on an old abandoned road in a forest he’s never visited. The trees around them are carrying autumn’s every color, and it’s like a palette that consists of Wonshik’s favorite colors only, spreading out in their surroundings and sending his emotions scattering in every direction. Somewhere ahead, momentarily hidden behind the trees, the sun is beaming down at them, somehow a lot brighter and more concentrated than it has been all summer. If the place they’re running towards is as beautiful as this, then he doesn’t mind not knowing where they’re heading, or why. 

Still, just to hear the other man’s voice, he calls out: “Where are we going?” 

Hakyeon pulls tighter on his hand. “You’ll see when we get there!” he yells back, not turning around to look at Wonshik even for a second. Wonshik is surprised to hear his voice completely unstrained, as if their tempo doesn’t have any effect on his breathing. He frowns, takes a deep breath and realizes how easy it is for him to breathe – he isn’t the best runner the world has ever seen, and neither is Hakyeon, but somehow the earth is allowing them space to breathe today. 

“Hakyeon,” Wonshik breathes, “where are we going?” 

 

They round a sharp turn to the left, only to be met with a steep hill. Wonshik feels like he loses his breath just by looking at it, because he’s definitely not up for running up any hills, but then again, things don’t seem to be working the way they normally do today. For a second he catches the sound of Hakyeon’s snickers before the other picks up the speed and races up, up, up, and Wonshik laughs too, gasping and stumbling as he fights to stay on his feet. The joy that fills his heart is overpowering, even when the air starts to feel a little too cool for them to be out there running, even when it starts to claw its way down his throat and into his lungs. Hakyeon holds his hand tighter when he laughs. 

Halfway up the hill, realization dawns in Wonshik’s heart. With his eyes fixed on all the colors around them, he slows down gradually in order not to fall, and then he pulls them both to a stop. Hakyeon turns to him with his heart in his throat, a big, questioning smile spreading on his face. “What?” he asks, without releasing his grip on Wonshik’s hand. 

“We’re not going anywhere, are we?” Wonshik asks. Hakyeon stares back at him for a few silent seconds, and then his face does a complete transformation from innocently happy to guiltily satisfied. 

“No,” he says. He’s standing just in front of Wonshik, the slope making him stand a few centimeters taller than him. A wind gushes through the trees as his smile widens. “I just wanted to see how far you would run with me. Think of it as an… experiment. A trick question. Except it wasn’t a question, so a trick answer.”

Wonshik smiles and shakes his head. “So basically just a trick, then?” 

Hakyeon laughs and nods as he leans forward, carefully wrapping his arms around Wonshik’s neck. Wonshik struggles to keep them both standing, sways for a second, feels a helpful wind in his side, and steadies. Hakyeon laughs louder, and his hand finds the side of Wonshik’s face, stroking his skin carefully. Wonshik thinks he’s going to kiss him, but he pulls back, apparently investigating every inch of his face.

“What would you have done if I never figured it out?” Wonshik asks. 

Hakyeon shows him a tilted smile as he considers it. “We’d have kept on running forever. And I don’t know where this road ends.”

Wonshik tears his eyes away from the man in front of him, the one who keeps his blood pumping, and watches the sun as it prepares to set. “It seems like winter’s coming, though,” he says thoughtfully. “Could get cold out here.” He imagines the snow that will be here in a couple of months’ time, the way it’ll be hanging off the branches and covering every trace of life on the ground. He remembers Hakyeon’s first confession, his first warning, and his heart swells again. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Hakyeon says. “I’d make us some sunshine.” 

His hand combs through the short hair just above Wonshik’s ear, and Wonshik remains silent with his arms wrapped around the other’s waist for a few seconds. Then he smiles, laughs, with so many words fighting their way to his lips, aching to be said, but then Hakyeon kisses him and kills both words and laughter. 

He doesn’t feel like he’s about to explode anymore. Nor does he feel like he can’t breathe. Instead a deafening happiness fills him, complete and overwhelming, and he marvels for a second at how much the sensation feels like sadness. He expects tears to well up, but they never come, because there’s nothing to cry out. His hands are trembling, and if anyone would have told him a year ago that there was a kind of happiness so powerful that it would cause him to shake, he would have laughed in their faces. But he’s not laughing anymore. 

He realizes it then: that maybe love is nothing but passion that has chosen a place to settle down, passion that no longer threatens to break out of the shell of your body and run to the closest, warmest object it can find. Passion is strangely like obsession, intense but only for a fleeting moment, and love, then? Perhaps it’s only a mix of the two, passion and obsession, settled down in the one place that suits you the best. For years there has never been a day when Wonshik has woken up and not felt the physical presence of love and the thought of Hakyeon filling up his mind, and now he suspects that will never change. 

They break the kiss but Wonshik doesn’t want to pull away. He suspects he might never want to. So his lips linger near Hakyeon’s skin, Hakyeon’s cheek, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to explain this feeling, this feeling of having found exactly the place he wants to stay for the rest of his life. 

Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t. He pulls back and looks into Hakyeon’s eyes, and he wonders if it’s possible for two people to share such an intense feeling without voicing it out loud. Looking over Hakyeon’s shoulder, he realizes the sun has changed direction and is slowly moving up through the sky again. He looks down to his shoes and clears his throat. “So, how about this experiment?” he asks. “What did you find out?” 

Hakyeon looks at him knowingly. What it is that he knows, Wonshik doesn’t want to think of, but he has nothing to hide. “Lots of things,” Hakyeon replies slowly. He treads his fingers in the hair at the back of Wonshik’s head before he continues: “I learned… that you’re possibly the best thing that could have ever happened to me.” He leans in and presses a fleeting peck to Wonshik’s cheek, and Wonshik is sure he can feel a small buzzing of electricity again. “That it doesn’t matter where we are or how I feel. I’m always hopelessly in love with you.” He moves to the other side and places a peck to his other cheek as well, and Wonshik holds his breath. “And… that I wouldn’t have minded if we kept on running forever. That I wouldn’t mind making sunshine just to keep you warm.” 

He pulls back, and Wonshik has to fight to keep his gaze steady as he looks into his eyes. He thinks that he won’t be able to keep his voice from breaking if he speaks, but something inside him still urges him to say something, to do something, anything that can help Hakyeon see how unbelievably loved he is. “You got all that from that one experiment?” he says. 

Hakyeon smiles again when he nods. “Oh, it was a very complicated experiment, trust me. Maybe you didn’t notice, but there were lots of things happening. Very high-tech. Much too complicated for a simple human mind.” 

Wonshik raises an eyebrow, but he can’t help but smile. “Is that so?”

Hakyeon nods. “And there’s more to come.” Wonshik feels his stomach churn in excitement, because if this is what happens when Hakyeon tries his ground, he wants it to happen more. Hakyeon hesitates for a second, but then he cups both of Wonshik’s cheeks in his hands, spreading his fingers out all over Wonshik’s skin. His hands are cold while the air around them is colder, but Hakyeon’s eyes never leave Wonshik’s own, and that warms him up. Hakyeon’s smile falters after a few seconds, and Wonshik feels heavier. 

“What?” he asks. 

Hakyeon tilts his head. “You’re not afraid of me.” Wonshik stares back at him. “How can you not be afraid of me?” 

“You’re the least dangerous person I’ve ever met,” Wonshik replies, feeling speechless at the question. 

The serious expression that threatened to take over Hakyeon’s face melts away. “Would you still have said that if I’d simply taken a gun and shot you?” 

Wonshik bites his lip to stop his laughter. “No, probably not.” Hakyeon nods, eyes wide. “But you didn’t, so it doesn’t matter,” Wonshik continues. 

“The difference isn’t all that big,” Hakyeon mutters. The wind stills. 

Wonshik agrees, to a certain extent. But the more time passes, the less likely it seems that he could have died of Hakyeon’s thunder that day. “You know what I think,” he says, though he’s said it so many times before. “You’re not a bad person.” The wind breathes again. 

“I know,” Hakyeon agrees. “And I’ve been doing a lot better, haven’t I?” 

The sun feels warmer, the wind a little less biting. Wonshik wonders if maybe they’re heading back for summer again instead of continuing on towards winter. He misses Hakyeon’s snow. “You have,” he agrees. “Although, there is the occasional cloud you think I don’t see…” Hakyeon’s mouth falls open in outrage at the words, and Wonshik stifles another laugh. “And, you know, the rain –“

“Is sort of hard to miss, especially the puddles, I know,” Hakyeon cuts him off. “But still. No snow, no thunder, no hail or anything like that for two months,” he continues, proudly. Wonshik smiles despite himself. 

“Indeed,” he says. “It’s calmer at home nowadays, I’ll admit that.” 

“Hm,” is Hakyeon’s only reply. He leans his head on Wonshik’s shoulder, embracing him and holding him tightly while warmth spreads between them. Though Hakyeon has become a lot better at concealing his displeasure with things, Wonshik can still tell he’s not completely satisfied with his reply. Instead of changing it, instead of trying to turn back time, he wraps his arm around the other man tighter and closes his eyes, hoping that winter will be allowed to come and run its course. “Do you remember when I said you’re the thickest man on the planet?” Hakyeon says then, his voice not apologetic in the slightest. 

Wonshik laughs. “Which of the times?” 

Hakyeon huffs and pulls away from the hug. “So you remember one of them at least. That’s good.” Wonshik raises an eyebrow at him. Hakyeon smiles then, looking down at their feet. “The point is… I take it back. I don’t think you’re the thickest man on the planet. I think I deserve that title a lot more by now.” 

Wonshik takes a deep breath and places his hands on the other man’s shoulders. “What are you on about now?” 

The sun starts changing directions again and prepares to set when Hakyeon looks into Wonshik’s eyes. “Ever since I fell in love with you, I’ve been wrong about everything. Every single damn little thing.” Wonshik doesn’t say anything, but meets his gaze as well as he can without letting the other man know just how proud the statement makes him feel. And, just as he thought, Hakyeon isn’t finished. “It should make me scared… that you make everything different. But it doesn’t. I feel safer than ever now, because every time I think everything’s about to fall apart, every time I think I’m becoming someone I don’t want to be, you stop it. You change it.” Wonshik lets his hands slip from Hakyeon’s shoulders down over his arms and holds them tightly. “It’s a relief…” Hakyeon continues, “that for once, things don’t end just because I’m scared they will.”

Wonshik wants to say something, but the years of keeping everything inside makes it hard for the words to come out. Suddenly he remembers Hakyeon hissing at him, you’d better have something damn wise to say right now, Wonshik, and it’s okay. They have time. Just like he’s coaxed Hakyeon out of his constant storms, Hakyeon will bring out the words that are still trapped and kept hidden in Wonshik’s heart. And either way, it’s not like Hakyeon doesn’t know what he isn’t saying. That knowing look on his face can only mean one thing.

“So,” he says instead, “how about your next… premonition?” He smiles, anticipating the answer. “What’s next?” 

Hakyeon shakes Wonshik’s hands off his arms as he considers it, and then he holds them in his own hands. He gives a tilted smile, one that makes Wonshik realize the air isn’t all that cold anymore. “I seem to recall a certain someone requesting some sunshine, right?” 

Wonshik chuckles in reply. “I wasn’t exactly talking about the weather.” 

Somewhere, Hakyeon crosses a line, and he is without a shadow of a doubt the love of Wonshik’s life as he smiles. “Neither was I.” 

 

They continue along the road without destination, simply for the sake of walking. And despite the impending heat, the setting sun tells Wonshik that winter is on its way. He’s relieved, because he wouldn’t want to spend a life without all four season of life. Perhaps there’s a lot to worry about still; Wonshik isn’t one to fool himself that he knows what’s going to happen in the future. What waits around the corner. Hakyeon has proven to him that even if he thinks he knows what awaits them, the knowledge can only stretch for about five minutes into the future, if that. And maybe, just maybe, he should worry that Hakyeon’s lack of storms means that his passion, and by extension, love for Wonshik is dying down, too. 

He considers it for a moment, but then he blows the thought out of his mind. Snow, rain and thunder is wondrous in its own way, and Wonshik loves it, but whenever he looks at the other man all fear is instantly dismissed. The storms have stopped, sure. But Wonshik takes everything he needs to know from the fact that nowadays, the sun shines out of Hakyeon’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Did you vomit from the excessive fluff? I hope not~  
> So, this is the end. It makes me sad in a way cause even though it wasn't very long, only 10k words-ish, I loved writing it so much. There was a few things I wanted to do with this fic:  
> A lot of the time I feel so much love towards someone, or just feel so unbelievably strongly about something that I can't express it, and if I don't let the words out it ends up coming out in other ways. Maybe, like this fic, haha. But that's one of the things I wanted to do: express that sense of "I have so much inside of me, I don't know what I'll do if I can't get it out."  
> Secondly, I wanted to write a little about loving somebody who has issues with their temper. I have loved somebody who sometimes turned to me and said "what about when we live together? won't you be scared of me, that i'm going to hurt you?" and so I wanted to express how much I still love that person regardless of things that have happened in the past, and no matter how she saw herself.  
> Thirdly, in terms of pure writing, I wanted to practice building an atmosphere of pure love without making them say it out loud, say the words "i love you". I'm proud of this fic and I'd love it if you could tell me how I did ^_^


End file.
